The last Chevy Camaro rolled off the line in High Rock, Pennsylvania six years ago drying up jobs, hopes of secure retirements and sending a quarter of the population of the town back to their roots in the hollers in the mountains of West Virginia. Back to the kin who never understood why they left in the first place. Left behind were boarded up store fronts and broken families. One of which was the Carmichaels.

Maddie Carmichael's daddy Lee lost his job when the Chevy plant closed. He'd been a foreman in the paint department where he specialized in striping cars, painting those thin decorative stripes along the side, making the car look sporty. About that same time Chevy shut the doors of the factory, Lee and Spice Carmichael closed the door on their marriage. As Spice told people at the insurance company she worked at, the marriage had been jammed for years and it was only a matter of time before it slammed shut.

After the closing of the Chevy plant Lee Carmichael was one of the twenty-five percent of High Rock residents who left home and headed to Conkle's Hollow, leaving Maddie, whom he called "Dingle Dancer" after his great grandparents who moved to the States from the Dingle Peninsula in Ireland during the potato famine, to live with her mother Spice and grandma Vespie. He told Dingle Dancer, who was only eleven at the time, that he was sorry he couldn't take her with him but little girls need their mothers. Mothers and daughters have a special bond. He said he loved her and that he'd stay in touch.

But he didn't. The last Maddie heard of her father was from a conversation she overheard Spice tell Vespie. "Well, I got a call from Cleo down in Conkle's Holler. Vespie, you remember Cleo don't you? Lee's second cousin who lived with Lee growing up? She said Lee up and married again. Some girl from Chattanooga. Probably has big tits and no teeth."

Maddie knew better than to ask any questions about her daddy because when she did, Spice would always burn another one of his bad traits into her mind. "Your daddy loved his pints more than he loved his family," or she'd say, "He left you didn't he? And I haven't seen a red dime since he left so as far as you're concerned, the son of a bitch is dead."

In 1974 Maddie Carmichael was a senior year at High Rock High, or HRH as everyone called it. She wasn't on the cheerleading squad as she had been in years past as dance and duties at home took up more hours than fit on a clock. And Spice cheerleaders were hussies anyway. And from what Maddie knew about a couple of the cheerleaders, perhaps Spice's theory wasn't too far off the mark. So Maddie concentrated on her dancing. She started taking dance lessons when she was only seven. Vespie insisted Spice sign Maddie up at the High Rock Dance Academy, which really wasn't an academy but a rented room above the dime store. Vespie told Spice, "Look at her ankles and legs, she's got dancer's legs." Spice argued against sending Maddie to dance class, said it was a waste of money. Maddie's father said it was between the women to arrange such things and stayed out of the decision. But Vespie insisted, saying she would pay for the damn lessons.

For 10 years, no matter what was going on at home, on Thursday afternoons, Maddie would walk the four blocks from school to the Dance Academy. Until her health failed, and Maddie was old enough to go by herself, Vespie would meet her after school and walk to dance class with her. Tonight, Maddie was the prima ballerina and she couldn't wait for Vespie and Spice to see how far she'd come with her dancing. She wanted Vespie to realize the dream the had both dreamed for her. And she hoped Spice would be proud too.

Maddie lay sleeping on her stomach when her alarm went off at 6:30. She didn't even open her eyes to hit the snooze button. She rolled over on her side. Her hair, the color of warm caramel, was piled high on her head held in place by some gizmo she bought at the High Rock Fire Department's Ladies' Auxiliary craft show which was held to raise funds for a new pump truck. She was hoping her stick straight hair would fall in curls for the dance recital that was going to be held at the community center this evening. At 6:45 the radio went on, again. Stretching her lithe dancer's body, Maddie arched her back and neck and gingerly pointed her toes as to avoid getting a Charley horse in her calf. She had been prone to getting them since going en point. She eased out from under the sheet, blanket and bedspread, trying to make her bed before she got out of it. It wasn't that she was lazy, she just didn't want to waste the time on such mundane things as making her bed. She turned the radio up, yawned her way to the bathroom, shut the door and began running her bath water.

She didn't notice the silence of the apartment. No snoring whispers were coming from Vespie, her grandma's room. Her mother, Spice wasn't clanking around, getting ready for work, swearing when she got a run in her hose. Peter Piper the canary, Spice insisted on keeping in the apartment since they had gas heat and stove and she had learned growing up in a coal town that if there was a gas leak the canary would die first, was silent as no one had taken the towel off his cage. Even the furnace didn't spit and spew blasts of hot air as Spice had turned the furnace down to 60 after receiving a $225.43 gas bill last month which she immediately blamed on Vespie's thin blood.

WHGR played "It's a Beautiful Morning," as it did every weekday at seven. Maddie hummed along. She flushed the toilet and stood by the sink to brush her teeth. "God, I hate getting up early," she said to herself as she looked in the mirror. "Geeze Louise, I look like I've been making out with a waffle iron." Cris-crossed lines covered her left cheek. Must have been from the chenille bedspread, she thought. "I hate that thing," she said, realizing her mother told her, repeatedly, that she didn't have money to waste buying a replacement for a perfectly good bedspread. Of course, Spice found the money to buy herself a new one, with dust ruffle to match.

"Gooooood morning, High Rock," said WHGR's drive-time dee-jay. "It's time for the news. And here's our news with the clues man, Corey Sampler." "Thanks Gary. Sad news this Friday morning. Two people are dead after their car plummeted off the Spencer T. Davis Bridge. Divers recovered the two bodies but police have not been able to bring up the car yet. They're waiting for equipment from Grover City. Apparently the car veered across the center line at a high rate of speed and broke through the guard rail before falling the 27 feet into the Susquehanna River. Names of the victims are not being released until notification of next of kin.

"In other news, the King Kwik at Archer and Vine was robbed last night…"

"How awful," Maddie said to herself as she sunk down into the tub. She thought how ironic it was that she was lying here, safe, in a bath full of warm water when these two poor souls had lost their lives in the very substance that was making her feel so good. She bent forward and put her face under the warm bubbly water, being careful not to get her hair wet. She realized someone was going to get a call telling them their loved ones had died. And the weekend before Thanksgiving too.

Maddie turned the water back on, wanting to get just a little more hot water therapy before starting her day. She stared at the water mark on the ceiling, going over her dance routine in her head. She stretched her arms, extending her fingers in a "V" formation like a flock of flying geese. Between the water and the radio, Maddie didn't hear the phone ring. And ring. She didn't hear the answering machine kick in after the fourth ring. And she didn't hear the person on the other end of the phone leave a message on the recorder.

She shaved her legs, nicking herself a couple of times. She hated to shave her legs, but since she had a recital that night, she had to. She didn't want stubble coming through her tights. And Spice would have been upset if she hadn't shaved. For whatever other bad habits Spice had, Maddie thought she was about the cleanest, well groomed person she knew. She was proud of how Spice looked, trim; hair, even though it wasn't quite a natural color, was always stylish. And her nails. Maddie loved Spice's nails, long and manicured and always covered with red nail polish like a Firebird. She looked at her own nails, bitten to the quick. Spice was always on her about that. "Only insecure people bite their nails," she'd say.

She got out of the tub, dried herself off, saw the scale in the corner of the bathroom, thought about weighing herself, but decided not to, sure the Hostess cupcakes she devoured last night would make the needle on the scale raise like a flag. Her mind flashed to those two poor souls again. What an awful way to die, she thought. So cold and dark. Other than taking a bath, Maddie wasn't too keen on water as she never learned how to swim. "Oh, learn how to dance or how to swim," Spice said, "you don't need to learn to do both." Sometimes Maddie didn't understand the logic of Spice's thinking, but most of her friends didn't understand the logic of their mother's thinking either.

When she opened the bathroom door, she was greeted with a rush of cold air. She scurried into her room, shut the door and got dressed as quickly as she could putting on her khaki pants, a white turtleneck, and her navy blue fleece top that had a hood attached.

She turned the radio way down since she was now in the same room. She brushed her hair and put on a tinge of mascara. Now the silence of the apartment grew louder. Her mother hadn't come into her room unannounced, looking for tweezers or eye liner or anything, telling her to turn the damn radio down as she walked back out the door. And why didn't she hear Vespie's cane banging on the floor? Maddie noticed the bird was quiet. Ut, oh, hope he's not dead from a gas leak. Hope Spice and Vespie aren't dead from a gas leak too. Then she laughed. "Gads, I'm thinking like Spice. I'd better knock that off." Spice had probably just called in sick to work and Vespie was no doubt sleeping in. Vespie sometimes slept in after she and Spice had a fight, and last night's was a doozy. The thought of it made Maddie shiver.

-----------------

Vespie had moved in with her daughter Margaret by default. Margaret, Spice's real name, was Vespie's only daughter. Spice wanted to put her mother in a nursing home after Vespie burned her mobile home to the ground but Vespie told Maddie to tell her mother that she'd have rather died in that fire than to move to a nursing home. Vespie was always telling Maddie to tell Spice things, even if Spice were sitting in the same room. She told Maddie "I've heard about those nursing homes from Gladys. She told me she was almost raped by one of those black orderlies and one of them even tried to get her to eat his Willie. But Gladys showed him how sharp gums can be." Maddie tried not to laugh when Vespie told her such things. As far as Maddie knew, Vespie didn't know a Gladys. But not knowing people didn't preclude Vespie from making up stories. Her imagination was about all she had left, or that's what she allowed people to think. Vespie's mind used to attract facts and figures like a woman's bosom attracts a man's glance. Arthritis had stolen her agility so she needed a cane. Spice said she needed a walker, but Vespie said she wouldn't have any part of a goddamn walker. Most everything Spice suggested, Vespie vetoed. But Spice pushed anyway.

At Spice's insistence, Vespie went to many doctors and was on an assortment of prescriptions which Vespie seemed to think led to her incontinence. Maddie couldn't understand why Spice insisted Vespie take so much medicine and go to so many doctors. To her, it seemed like more of a torture than a help. She'd told her mother that instead of making Vespie better, all of the medicine seemed to be doing was prolonging her life, her agony, to which Spice replied, "Shut up and mind your own business. It's time she gets a little of her own medicine."

Maddie didn't like to think it, but sometimes she wondered if Spice wanted to see Vespie suffer. When Spice was in a manic stage because she refused to take her Lithium and she wouldn't get out of bed for weeks at a time, Maddie would sit with her after school and listen to Spice ramble on. Spice told her about how Vespie never protected her when the boogie man came, never baked her cupcakes and told her she would never be a dancer because she had her father's fat ass and ankles. Spice said she would have killed her husband if she found out he was "fooling around" with a daughter of hers, unlike Vespie who ignored the situation and covered the son of a bitch's tracks. As if she thought she were consoling Maddie, Spice would end these conversations with, "I kill myself before become a burden to you like Vespie did to me."

"No momma," Maddie would say, taking her hand, "you cant do that. If you and Vespie aren't here, I'll be the only one left to dance."

Maddie wouldn't cry in front of Spice, but she would go to her room, sit in her rocking chair that had been brought over from Ireland, stare out the window and cry. What was she to think? Here Spice was telling her how awful Vespie was, yet the only Vespie she knew was the one who, when she lived in the mobile home, always had chocolate chip cookies and milk for her when she visited, never failed to walk her to and pay for dance lessons and would talk to her about her dancing dreams for hours. When she was little Vespie used to brush Maddie's long hair and tell her the story of Rappunzel. She spoke glowingly of Maddie's grandpa Jack. How could Maddie be both of these people she wondered?

For five years Vespie, Spice and Maddie lived under the same roof. Occasionally one of Spice's men friends would move in sparingly, bringing a few shirts, pants, toothbrush and an overactive libido that Spice was more than willing to escape into. But within a month or so the man would leave. Most were unnerved by Vespie's cane banging on the wall in the middle of the night and her talk about the men in the black suits who were going to come any day now and rip the eyes out of sinners. And if that didn't get them, Spice's talk of marriage did.

The night of the fight Spice and Frank, a man Spice had been dating had gone to the Paragon Dance Club to learn to Tango. Maddie had been lying on the couch waiting for Spice to come home. She was concerned about Vespie. Vespie had spent the evening in her room blasting the Lawrence Welk Show on her TV. Even after Maddie had given her a sleeping pill, Vespie was wide awake, agitated. For a while Maddie was able to keep her settled, talking to her about her days as a dancer. Vespie had tapped her way across vaudeville stages and boardwalks from Atlantic City to Des Moines. She used to have a perfect dancer's body. Long legs and arms, slinky fingers and fine posture. Then her arches and uterus fell and osteoporosis made her back look like the handle of a fine tea cup. Not to mention her memory bounced like tumbleweeds across a dessert plain. But even though her memory and bones had softened, her tongue hadn't.

After the dance, Frank and Spice floated home on smoky clouds of Camel Lights. Maddie didn't say anything when they came through the door. She smelled her mother's Taboo perfume and heard the clang of her bangle bracelets. The living room was dark except for a stream of light that came from the kitchen. Maddie noticed her mother's faded freckled shoulders above her halter topped dress. She looked fragile. It was obvious to Maddie, Spice and Frank wanted the tango to last into the night. Spice sought her reflection in the window, a reflection that also showed the card table used as a dining room table. The used blond buffet with three missing handles was lined with Vespie's prescription bottles, Vaseline, Keri lotion and Preparation H suppositories that were supposed to be refrigerated but Spice didn't want anything to do with a rectum in her refrigerator. Spice turned her face to the left, then to the right, tilting her head back, running her fingers through her mahogany hair. She pursed her lips as if to kiss herself. Frank dropped his keys on the plastic coffee table. Maggie watched as Frank pulled up his pants that hung like a window air conditioner over his stomach. He walked behind Spice, swaggering like he was some sort of Elvis. He stood behind her, putting his arms around her, grinding his pelvis into Spice's backside. Frank turned Spice around and planted a big kiss on her lips. Maddie heard their lips smack together and she could see the outline of Frank's tongue dart into her mother's mouth. Maddie remained as silent as the picture of JFK that hung on the living room wall.

"I want you," Frank said, as he began to slide his hand up Spice's leg and under her dress.

That's when Maddie spoke up.

"Eh-hum," she said. "Mom, something's wrong with Vespie."

"How long have you been there? Don't you know you should have announced your presence?" Spice asked. "My God, you were spying."

"I was only waiting up to tell you Vespie hasn't been acting normal all night."

"Hell, she's never acted normal."

Maddie could smell the alcohol coming from Spice's mouth as she got in her face. She was taking her Lithium and wasn't supposed to drink.

"Can't I have one night where I don't have to worry about Vespie? I'm sick of it. Sick of her. And right now I'm sick of you."

"Sorry, I just thought you'd want to know Vespie seemed really agitated and even after I gave her a sleeping pill she couldn't get to sleep."

"Well now I know. Get to bed. I'll deal with it in the morning."

Maddie could tell Frank was ticked. When she started to say something else to Spice, Frank shooed her away, shaking his head no. Maddie got up and began dragging her blanket and pillow off the couch. Before she left the room, Frank put his hand on Spice's head like she was a ballerina. She twirled herself around Frank as if he were a Maypole.

As they were dancing, Spice heard Vespie's cane banging on the floor. Spice continued to wrap herself around Frank.

"I'm cold," Vespie said. "And I can't sleep with all this racket going on. I want to go home. This isn't my home. And who's been stealing my money?"

"Shit," Frank said. "Can't we have a minute alone?"

"I'll take care of this Frank," just wait here.

Maddie could hear everything from her bedroom.

"Shut up and go to sleep," Spice said glaring at Vespie. "Did you take your medicine? Get into your room. There's no need to make a spectacle of yourself in front of company." She grabbed Vespie's elbow and pulled her down the hall, away from the living room where Frank stood with his hands on his hips shaking his head. Maddie heard the argument shift from the living room to Vespie's bedroom.

"You stole my money," Vespie said. "It was right here in my drawer."

"I did not steal your money. You're just paranoid."

"Well that man you brought home stole my money. He did it."

"He just got here so he couldn't have stolen your damn money. Now go to bed."

"How many men have you had in your bed Missy? You're no daughter of mine. You spread your legs like peanut butter trying to stick to any man you meet. Even your own father you teased and teased until he…"

Spice slapped Vespie.

"I should have put you in that nursing home when I had the chance," Spice said. "You're driving me fucking crazy. I can't even bring a man to my own home, I've lost my daughter to what she naively believes is a sweet old lady. God dammit, you're ruining my life."

Vespie tried to hand Spice her cane. "Why don't you just go ahead and kill me then and be done with it? Here, beat me to death. Get it over with. It's better than the slow death you're putting me through. You think I don't know what you've been trying to do, giving me so many drugs I can't see straight? Well look at these Missy." Vespie's shaky hands unzipped the pillow she slept with her head on. She took the pillow and hung it so pills spilled everywhere. Spice looked on, her mouth gaping wide.

"Here," Vespie said again. "Beat me to death. Make it quick. I deserve at least that."

Spice took the cane, held it for a moment, staring at this angry woman whose frail features belied her massive rage. Spice placed the can on the edge of the bed, turned and walked out of Vespie's room.

Maddie could listen no more. She covered her ears with her pillow. And when one pillow didn't block out the words, she piled another one over her head. She couldn't bear to hear this. She had no idea how deep the resentment between Spice and Vespie ran. She had thought it was all about no, emptying pee filled coffee cans, listening to wails for help all night, cleaning up streams of diarrhea, having no privacy, no thoughts that weren't boomeranged…no life. How stupid she realized she'd been. All these years this bitterness has been about the past, an unrelenting resentment for words that had been said and left unsaid, acts that left scars deeper than the coal mines of West Virginia and more diseased than the potato fields of Ireland. For all these years, the words Maddie's father said when he left had rung in her ears, "Mothers and daughters have special bonds." And she believed it. She'd assumed that bond was love. But as she listened to Vespie and Spice, she became sickeningly aware it was hatred that brought them together, not love.

The last thing Maddie heard before she fell asleep was the sound of Spice slamming her bedroom door.

*************

Maddie flipped off the radio, grabbed her dance bag, book bag and purse and left her room. When she walked past Vespie's room she noticed the door was closed shut. Odd, she thought. Vespie's door was always left open a crack. But her hands were full so she kept walking. She'd put her stuff down on the table, pour a glass of orange juice, then go see what the deal was. She walked by her mother's room. The door was closed too. But that wasn't as odd. Her mother liked her door closed. And locked. But by now, her mother should have at least turned on the TV in her room. Even if she was home sick, she'd turn the TV on. She knocked on Spice's door. No answer. "Mom, you in there?" Maddie asked as she tried to open the door. But it was locked. Maddie grabbed a hair pin she had put in her hair and stuck it in the hole on the door handle. She pushed the latch open. The door creaked open. Spice wasn't in her bed. The bed was made, which seemed unusual to Maddie as Spice was never one for neat and tidy. She walked into the room and looked around. There was a chill in the room beyond the lack of the furnace kicking in. Maddie felt the breeze coming from an open window and she went over and shut it.

Maddie went to Vespie's room. That door was locked too. Again, she used her hairpin to open the door. Vespie's room was empty too. Her bed was made. And her window was open about six inches too. Maddie shut the window, her hands were like ice now. Had someone come in during the night and stolen her mother and grandmother away? But people don't kidnap mothers and grandmothers, Maddie thought to herself, they steal kids, babies.

Did Spice get Vespie up early and take her to adult day care? No. Vespie hated adult daycare. "They treat us like a bunch of monkeys," she'd said. Maddie was racking her mind for any logical explanation why her mother and grandmother weren't at home. But few came. Morning coffee? No Spice was too embarrassed anymore by Vespie's shaking to take her out. Doctor's appointment? No, not this early. And Spice never took her anyway.

As Maddie walked back to the kitchen to see if there was a note on the table, the phone rang. "Hi, Maddie, can I have a lift to school?" asked the person on the phone. "My car wouldn't start. My idiot brother left the front door open all night."

"Sure," Maddie said, "it might be a few minutes though because I've lost my mom and grandma."

"Say what?" her friend said.

"They're not here. It's weird. Their beds are made, and their windows are open, but there's no sign of 'em. I've gotta see if they left a note. I'm sure they're somewhere."

Bebe, her friend who had called for a ride, could sense concern in Maddie's voice. "See if they left a note, then, give me a ring back," Bebe said. "They probably had an early appointment or something."

"Sure," Maddie said. Although at this moment, she wasn't sure of anything.

When she hung up the phone, she noticed the red light blinking on the recorder. Hum, wonder when that came, she asked herself as she knew she had cleared the answering machine last night before she went to bed. She pushed the rewind button. Then the recorder clicked on.

"Hello, this is Our Lady of the Bessed Virgin Hospital. There's been an accident and we're trying to get a hold of Margaret Carmichael. If you could please call 587-2314 and ask for Samantha Jones of Michael Waldrip as soon as possible. Thanks."

Maggie put down the glass of juice. What's going on she thought? How could there have been an accident and I didn't know about it? Did Vespie fall and break her hip while I was sleeping? No, Spice would have gotten me up. Did Spice try to kill herself again and somehow I slept through it? Maddy realized her rationalizations weren't making sense. Something was going on that wasn't normal. And she had no one to call to help her figure it out. Except the hospital

. "Hello, may I please speak to Samantha Jones of Michael Waldrip please?"

"May I ask who's calling?"

"Maddie, Madeline Carmichael. I'm returning her, I mean their call."

"Just a moment please."

Maddie's fingertips were blue. She couldn't make herself sing along with the music that was playing through the receiver. All she could think about was, well, contrary to what that song said, it really isn't a beautiful morning.

Just as a voice came on the other end of the phone, the words of the news announcer rang through Maddie's ears, "Two people are dead…" She almost dropped the phone.

"Hello, hello," the voice on the other end of the phone said. It was Samantha Jones.

"Hello," Maddie said tentatively as she felt the weight of a dancer who had lost her balance. "This is Maddie Carmichael. I'm returning your call. You were calling to speak to a relative of Margaret Carmichael."

"Yes," Samantha said.

"I'm her daughter," Maddie said, trying to keep her voice from cracking.

"Hi, Maddie, Is your father home by chance?"

"My parents are divorced."

"Are you alone?" Samantha asked. "Yeah, I'm not sure where my mother and grandmother are. I woke up and they're not here."

"I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, but your mother and grandmother were brought to the hospital. They're dead"

"No, they can't be. You must have made a mistake."

"I'm sorry, but the bodies of Margaret Carmichael and Vespira Godsby were pulled from the Susquehanna River early this morning. The car they were driving in went off the bridge. Do you have anyone who could bring you to the hospital?"

"Hello, hon, are you there?"

"Yes, I'm here. Uh, I can drive there myself. I have a license."

"Are you sure? I can send someone from Human Services to come and get you."

"No, I'll drive myself. Where should I go?" Tears rolled down Maddie's cheek as she remembered she didn't have a car to drive. She and Spice shared one car. Spice took the bus to work and Maddie drove the car to school. Spice let Maddie use the car because that way she could also take Vespie to her doctor's appointments.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I can drive, I guess my car is at the bottom of the Susquehanna."

The sound of sniffles came through the phone.

"What if I come and get you?" Samantha said. "Do you live at the address that is on your mother's driver's license?"

"I guess so. What's the address.? I don't know if she changed it since we moved."

"It says 419 Brewster, Apt C, High Rock."

"That's right." "I'll be over in about 20 minutes. And I'll help you take care of things."

"Ok," Maddie said.

As she hung up the receiver, her mind focused on the word "things." What things was she talking about? Would she have to identify Spice and Vespie's body? Would she need to take them dry clothes? No that was stupid, she thought. Maddie assumed since they had Spice's driver's license, that would suffice for her identification, but what about Vespie? She'd have to go get something that told who Vespie was.

Maddie walked into Vespie's room. She noticed the smell of Vicks Vapor Rub, Vespie's favorite that she insisted Maddie rub on her neck every night. For the first time she noticed how Vespie's iron frame bed sunk in the center. She had insisted on bringing that bed with her. It was the only thing left standing after the fire. Tarnished, but quite functional she'd told Spice. Maddie opened the top drawer of the chest, hoping to find Vespie's stack of identification cards she kept in a rubberband. Her Medicaid and Medicare cards, insurance cards, Vespie's first and only Social Security card. These would do, Maddie said. As she pushed the drawer shut, she noticed how neat and tidy the contents of the drawer were. Maddie pulled out a snow globe, one with the boardwalk in Atlantic City. It was so old the snow had solidified and crusted. When she turned it over, the snow, instead of falling in flakes, fell in a clump. She shut the drawer, pulled the curtains open, and walked out of the room. She didn't have time to go into Spice's room as Samantha Jones was at the door.

On the ride to the hospital, Miss Jones talked to Maddie softly. She asked her about school, about her family. She told her how pretty she was and how quite mature she was for her age. Was she really only seventeen?

Maddie answered the questions, but her mind wasn't on what she was being asked. She wanted to ask if Miss Jones thought she should have two funerals instead of one since Vespie and Spice hated each other. But she was sure that question would lead to others and she didn't feel like getting into the family dynamics.

"Does anyone know what happened?" Maddie asked.

"No, there were some skid marks on the bridge but other than that, the police said it just looked like the driver was going to fast and lost control. They'll be doing an autopsy. Do you know what that is?"

Maddie was only at the hospital a couple of hours. A police officer talked to her and asked her if she knew where her mother would have been going at that time of night. Maddie said she was probably just taking Vespie for a ride because she couldn't get to sleep, and you know how riding in cars makes people sleepy. Maybe Spice had fallen asleep too. Maybe that's what happened she told the officer. The officer said that could have been. It's a shame, but those things happen.

Since Maddie was only seventeen and didn't have any legal guardian, Miss Jones said she would have to call Human Services and have them arrange for Maddie's future. But Maddie asked her if she couldn't wait until tomorrow to make the call. She could stay with her friend Bebe. She had a dance recital tonight that she couldn't miss. And she knew Vespie and Spice wouldn't want her to. Miss Jones said it was against procedure, but since Maddie seemed like quite a sensible young lady, she'd wait until tomorrow.

When she drove Maddie home, she told her she too had wanted to be a dancer.

"What happened?" Maddie asked.

"I guess no one believed in me, and I didn't know enough to believe in myself," Miss Jones said. "That and I had two left feet," she said. They both laughed.

As the car pulled up to the curb and Maddie started to get out, Miss Jones looked at her and said, "You know, after what's happened to you today, no one think less of you if you didn't dance tonight."

"I know," Maddie said. "But I have to."

"Why?" asked Miss Jones.

"I have to because I'm the only one left to dance."

^